Nobody Said It Was Easy
by Karkalicious769
Summary: "One day, you will fall for someone- someone incredibly important to you. And they'll touch you with their fingers, and burn holes in your skin with their mouth. And it will hurt you when you look at them. And it will hurt you when you don't. And it will feel like someone cut you open with a jagged piece of glass, but for some unfathomable reason, you'll still love then anyway."


**A/N: I stayed up until three am to write this, so I formally apologize for my sleep-deprived brain's idea of good writing.**

* * *

Your name is Dirk Strider, and the sight before you is, undoubtedly, the second most beautiful thing you've ever laid eyes on.

The slight breeze tousles your hair, making a mess of the style that you spend an hour every morning getting just right. You don't care. It's been so long since you've felt that familiar familiar breeze. You're taking it all in, even going so far as to take off your shades as you stare up at the achingly familiar sky.

It's blue. So, so blue. You didn't realize before how much you missed that shade of robin's egg. And the sun is too bright - as always. It hurts your unprotected eyes when you look at it. It's just how you remember.

You want to take off your shoes - your normal shoes, not your pink, princely God Tier boots - and feel the grass between your toes for the first time in your sixteen years of life. You want to see everything that this new planet, the one you helped create, has to offer.

Your hand, still clasping _his_ firmly, reminds you that you can't though. Not yet. There's still so much left unsaid between the two of you for you to just go gallivanting around like a child without a care in the world. It's a sharp dose of reality in this otherwise perfect ending.(Well, that, and all the trolls who didn't make it this far. You didn't actually know them, though.)

You risk glancing over at Jake English, but he seems to be just as distracted as you were. For those who haven't figured it out yet, he's the _first_ most beautiful sight you've ever seen. It hurts to look at him - knowing how badly you two fucked up - but it hurts more to _not_ look at him, so you suffer silently.

His emerald eyes are wide and bright with child-like wonder that you haven't seen on him in a long, long time. It makes your heart throb. Everything about him makes you ache in the most pleasantly torturous way.

"Jake?" You say before you can stop yourself, or even come up with the foggiest idea of what you're going to say to him. You're facing him fully now, not trying to hide the fact that you're staring, and you get a perfect view of his reaction to your amber eyes. You never have taken your shades off in front of him, have you? That's your own fault. You were too clingy and too open before - but you weren't open in the right ways. You weren't open emotionally, just physically, and that makes all the difference. You've never even told Jake that you love him.

"Dirk?" He replies after his eyes return to normal size - mirroring your conversation prompt. You don't understand why, but your name always sounds better when he says it with that English accent of his. You want to hate his accent. You want to hate him, because that would still hurt, but it would be a hurt you can manage and deal with.

You open your mouth to speak. The words are right on the tip of your tongue - _"I'm sorry"_ \- that's what you need to say. You need to say everything that you should've told him a long time ago.

 _"I miss you."_

 _"I need you."_

 _"I love you."_

But you don't say any of those things. "...I'm glad you made it through the game." You tell him instead. _Smooth, Strider_ , you mentally scold yourself. _Real smooth._

If Jake notices your internal struggle, he doesn't bring it up. His eyes are on your conjoined hands, an expression on his face that you can't quite place. "Me, too." Jake says, looking up at you with a small smile. "Me too."

You don't really hear him. You're too busy enjoying the feeling of his palm pressed against yours. His hand is warm in yours, to the point of burning, but you don't pull away. You fall silent, and just stare at him as he looks back out at your new home.

You know Jake doesn't think much of himself - it's painfully obvious that he struggles with self-esteem issues - but you also know that he doesn't deserve that. You wish he could see himself through your eyes. Maybe then, he could understand how lovely he is. And that's not just your complicated feelings talking, either. Jake really is a sight to behold. It's in his every movement - the tilt of his head when he's confused, the way he leans back ever so slightly when he laughs, and even the way the left side of his mouth curves up further than the right side when he smiles. You hate that you notice these little things about him. You hate that you can't tell him how much you adore him.

Once upon a time, you wouldn't have been afraid to tell him something like that. Back when you were still courting him, you probably would have said anything to make him understand how you feel. In the end, you hadn't though.

He was too dense to understand your obvious hints. You had tracked him down on his planet - an act that took three days - grabbed him by the shoulders, looked him dead in the eye, and opened your mouth. Those same words were bouncing around in your head.

 _"I love you."_

You wanted to tell him. But, even then, you couldn't. It didn't seem like the right setting. So, instead, you swallowed the truth and pulled him closer, pressing your lips together awkwardly. That seemed to get your point across just as well though, and you did your best to push everything else to the back of your mind and just enjoy the feeling of his lips against yours.

Those first few weeks of your relationship with Jake were, hands down, the best. You remember the two of you lying side by side on your bed. Shoulder to shoulder and your hands interlocked between your bodies, weary from a day of exploring his planet. You and him passed secrets back and forth in the dark sanctity of your room until you knew more about him than you probably needed to. You'd whisper questions to each other, and listen intently to the hushed reply - as if the whole thing was yet another secret. Something only you two could share.

If you close your eyes, you can almost feel his familiar warmth pressed beside you.

But when you open them, you're still alone, and the section bed next to you is cold and empty.

You know that Jake is set up in the house next door. It's late, but he's probably still awake, watching some of the horrible movies he had shoved into his sylladex ages ago. You could go over there and knock on the door. You could wrap your arms around his waist and tell him everything you've tried to deny. The only secret you never told him during those moments on your bed.

 _"I love you."_

But you, predictably, don't. You simply roll over, squeeze your eyes shut, and somehow wrestle your subconscious to sleep.

You're running in circles - just like you did back then. You keep questioning yourself. You keep picking apart every little gesture Jake does for you. And you're not going anywhere. You've exhausted so much time and effort into somehow fixing your relationship with him, and you hardly have anything to show for it. Even your thought process doesn't seem to understand itself anymore. Do you love Jake, or do you not? You can't seem to decide, and it's driving you batshit insane.

You sit yourself down and decide that you are going to settle these important questions once and for all.

Yes, you do love Jake English, even if you'll never actually tell him. And yes, your relationship was trying and a clusterfuck that predictably crashed and burned. But every second with him - whether you're talking to him from 400 years in the future or whispering sweet nothing's against his lips - was worth it. Every memory with him is a good memory. Even the not-so-good ones. You find all of your memories to be extremely helpful in your self-evaluation. It's not like you actually enjoyed breaking up with him, but now, the memory is a good learning device.

All in all, your spectacularly shitty relationship with Jake was worth it.

And you would give anything to have a second chance at that.

You realize that you've been looking at Jake and your feelings all wrong. You've been trying to find patterns where there is only impulse, and puzzles where there has only ever been open arms. You've been trying to use logic to work this out - like one of your computer programs. But the simple truth is, there is no logic to being in love with Jake English.

For fucks sake, everything "logical" is telling you that you and Jake will never work out. You're complete opposites. You've been secluded your whole life, and Jake has never stopped exploring. You have platinum blonde and he has hair the color of melted chocolate. You're overly clingy and protective, and he values his space. Maybe a little too much. The logical conclusion is to stop chasing a man you have zero compatibility with. You should somehow become attracted to girls and try dating Jane or Roxy. You wish it was that easy. But you can't stop wanting him. You can't stop needing him. When you sleep, it's his face that graces your dreams. No one else. You can never settle for anyone except Jake, as hopeless as it is.

You and Jake are through - maybe for good - but even if it's just a lie or a dream or a joke, you want him to hold you one more time and finally say it.

 _"I love you."_

You're problem with Jake was that neither of you was willing to sit down and talk out your problems like adults. You've both changed so much since the game began and ended. And for better or worse, you're not going to make the same mistakes again. You're not going to let him slip through your fingers - not when he's so close.

You take a deep breath and knock on his door, if only because Roxy is waiting nearby to do it for you if you try to back out.

Jake answers after exactly six seconds. You shouldn't have counted, but you needed something to distract you, lest you decide at the last second that you aren't ready for this.

"Dirk?" He frowns, no doubt confused by your presence. Shit. In your rush, you forgot how late it is for a house call. "It's eleven at night. What're you doing here?"

You clear your throat, tugging on your collar, which is suddenly pressed too tight against your skin. You look everywhere except at him, which would be less obvious if Roxy hadn't taken your shades. You'll have to thank her for being such a good friend later, but for now…

 _Say it,_ you tell yourself. _Just say it. Spit it out or something, just talk. Say anything!_

"I love you." Jake says suddenly, pulling your attention from your struggling subconscious to the anxious boy in front of you. You blink in surprise. He… what? "Didn't you hear me?" Jake huffs impatiently, crossing his arms, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "I said that I love you."

You can't find the right words. You can't find any words, actually. NOt even horribly shitty words that would probably get you slapped. You don't understand. After everything you did wrong, all the mistakes and broken promises, he still loves you? Or maybe he loves you for the first time. You never were very mindful of his feelings back then, were you? You kind of bullied him into a relationship. You came on too strong, and he didn't know how to say no.

Jake opens his mouth, an angry scowl on his face, and in that moment, you finally figure out what to do.

You laugh.

But it's not a cruel, you-must-be-crazy-if-you-think-I-love-you-back laugh. It's the laugh of someone who just had the weight of the world lifted off of his chest.

"Jake." You say as your laughter calms down. He stares at you, still visibly angry and embarrassed. You don't mind. Jake is really cute when he's trying to be angry. "Jake, you have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that."

He does some quick math in his head and smiles hesitantly, his expression hopeful. "Three years?" he guesses, factoring in some time before and after the game, as well as the two years you've been living on this new Earth.

You shake your head. "Longer." You say simply, and though he clearly wants to know more, he doesn't press you to continue.

There's an awkward pause in the conversation. Neither of you feel the need to speak - you just stare at each other. Then he rubs the back of his neck, like he always does when he's nervous, and starts talking.

"Say, Dirk?" He begins, pretending not to notice the way his cheeks are turning red, "If it isn't too much to ask, could we maybe, possibly, start over…?" Jake asks hesitantly. Now it's his turn to look away.

You frown, shaking your head after a moment of consideration. "No. I rather like the people we became after our falling out." You put a hand on his shoulder and, startled, Jake looks up at you, turning red when he realizes how close you are. Still, he doesn't pull away, and you take that as a good sign. "So, what do you say, Jake?" You smile hopefully. "Ready to give me a second chance?"

"I believe so." He says slowly, nodding as he thinks about it. And he smiles at you - a dazzling, brilliant smile that makes your heart skip a beat - and for once, it doesn't hurt.

You swallow hard. You hope he finds the prospect of being a couple as appealing as you do. "But - one more thing, Jake."

"Hmm?" He stares, no doubt wondering what more could possibly need to be said.

"I love you, too." You grin. And, just like you did to him almost three years ago, you pull him close, locking your lips together. He kisses back, his hands wrapping loosely around your neck, and your hands firmly encircling his waist. You've wanted to do this to him for so long. You don't know how you've made it two years living so close to Jake without ever touching him like this. It's maddening - head-spinning, even - just like his kisses and his touch. You burn and ache wherever the two of you _aren't_ touching. You don't think Jake realizes how addictive he is.

Your name is Dirk Strider, and even though you failed miserably as a Prince, you think you finally got your happy ending.

* * *

 **A/N: And bonus points for the cheesy ending, which is the only kind of ending that I seem to be capable of writing.**


End file.
